46: Recipe For The Premeditated And Medicated


Primordial ooze. Prebiotic soup.

More like broth brought to a boil at 27 million degrees.

Liquid stirred with love sticks, melting faces of our birth,

aerodynamic teardrops, viscous martyrs for life.


Sometimes I forget how big the world is,

how this city could eat me alive,

slurp me down as an appetizer,

thinking only of the real meal yet to come.


A potion prepared on the melting pot stovetop:

  • Goose liver
  • Whale fat
  • Sandpaper tiger tongue
  • Tears of a non-virgin, 30-something, too-far-from-home, ex-pat, walking-through, Chicago-proper


Chemical compounds forced by nature

into a body built by

broken hearts and sturdy hands

and minds that mixed up

arc angles with arch angels,

that turned

on each other,

that turned


into water

into wine we just can’t drink anymore.


So onward we march,

holding our phones

like we used to hold each other



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